


Just Talking I and II

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A little harmless Alex babbling.





	Just Talking I and II

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Just Talking by Frankie

Just Talking  
by Frankie  
August 1999  
Disclaimer: Did you know that in Venutian, "Chris Carter" means "one who doesn't share pretty boys with the masses"? Neither did I.  
Rating: NC-17 for m/m goings on.  
Spoilers: Terma, The Red and the Black  
Summary: A little harmless Alex babbling.  
Notes: WARNING: Silliness and bad puns ahead. Thanks to Orithain, Sue and Lucy, who read this, laughed (they were supposed to, btw) and beta'd. Any remaining mistakes are mine. Also, this is for Sarah, who said she wanted a happy story. Well, this is...not angst J  
Archive: Anywhere...I'm easy.  
Feedback: Anything...I'm easy.   
Other stories: http://www.squidge.org/terma/frankie/frankie.htm

* * *

Just Talking  
by Frankie  
August 1999

==========

I love him. Three simple, straightforward words, right? Then why do I feel like a complete jackass whenever I say them to myself? It's probably because it's like saying "I love money," then waiting to see if my wallet magically explodes and showers me with millions. Saying it doesn't make a difference. I'm usually a man of action, but for some reason I can't bring myself to do what's necessary to get what I want this time.

I did have a plan, you know. Unfortunately, it consisted of me grabbing him off the street and plying him with words of love (not to mention lots of liquor) in order to win his heart. I know it would never have worked, not because of the nature of the plan, but because I'm not too hip when it comes to the lingo of love. So, what does this mean?

It means I sit here, thinking about him, wondering when or if I'll get the chance to see him again, and basically driving myself nuts in the process. I also sit here playing out different scenarios in my head. They usually go something like this:

Scenario #1:

Me: Hey.

Him: What do you want, you scum-sucking son of a bitch who isn't fit to breathe the air I breathe?

Me: I was wondering if you were free for dinner.

Scenario #2:

Me: It's vital I talk to you.

Him: There's nothing you have to say that I want to hear.

Me: But, I love you.

Him: ::gunshots::

Me: Ow.

Scenario #3:

Him: What the hell are you doing here, you motherpighorsefucking psychotic piece of shit?

Me: Just wondering if you'd like to go see "The Blair Witch Project" with me.

Him: ::punch::

Me: That would be 'no,' then?

See? They don't really work, do they? Okay, so my next course of action is to hang out in front of his apartment building and hope to catch a glimpse of him as he goes in and out. I know what you're thinking, but it's not as pathetic as it sounds. What if he sees me out there, runs over, punches me a couple of times, then drags me up to his apartment to really work me over? Wait. That wouldn't happen. He'd just put me in custody. Next.

I've got it! I wait for him in his apartment, catch him off guard and tell him that I have some vital information about the takeover of the planet by extra-terres.....shit. I've done that already. Although I did get to kiss him, it didn't exactly fulfill my wildest dreams.

I didn't even tell you what it is about the guy that drives me absolutely crazy, did I? Well, besides the obvious attraction anyone with a pulse would have to that magnificent physical specimen, there are the other little quirks and habits that have endeared him to me. For instance, when we were partners, I could watch him eat sunflower seeds for hours. Yeah, that ties in with the physical attributes - those lips, those fingers, that tongue -but the absentminded way he'd devour those suckers was adorable. Fuck, now I'm using words like "adorable" to describe him. Remind me to shoot myself later. Anyway, I also really loved to watch him drive. Like any man, I'd make a bit of a big deal out of wanting a turn to drive, but that was all a front. I loved the way his hands looked gripping the steering wheel, the way he'd drum his fingers on the dashboard when we were waiting in traffic and a good tune was playing on the radio...the way he'd turn the key to start the car is still etched in my mind. Okay, I'm even starting to make myself sick, so let's move on, shall we?

The bottom line is I love him, and he has no idea, and I have no clue what to do about it. Is it too juvenile for a grown man to call the object of his desire just to hear the voice he wishes would be the last thing he'd hear at night and the first thing he'd hear in the morning? Probably. At this point, I don't give a shit. I'm going to do it. BRB.

Shit. He knew it was me. I don't know how, but he did. I've blocked my number from being seen on Caller ID, so I know that's not how he knew. Unless he figures that anyone who calls him and doesn't say anything must be me. That's pretty strange considering the weirdos who must call him on a regular basis. Oh, in case you're interested, this is pretty much what he said.

Him: Mulder.

Me: ::heart racing::

Him: Hello? Who is this?

Me: ::heart pounding::

Him: ::looooooong pause:: Krycek?

Me: ::coronary::

Him: Alex? Talk to me. I need to know if this is you. There are so many things I need to say to you.

Okay, I made up that last part. He just hung up after telling me to get a fucking life. I suppose this means I'm back at square one. What to do...what to do...

Hold on. I have to take off this damn prosthesis...it's annoying the hell out of me, more so than usual. You know, rationally speaking, I should be madder than hell at him for screwing up my plan to get us out of that prison camp. Unfortunately, I can't be. I understand that it was a matter of self-preservation on his part. As for my arm...that'll teach me to depend on the kindness of strangers.

Okay, that's better. Where was I? I know what you're thinking. How on earth could I say I love him when every confrontation we've had has been violent and unproductive as far as furthering our relationship goes? I'll explain.

There are certain types of people who will put up with any amount of abuse if it means they can spend time with the object of their affections. They'll endure pain, both physical and emotional, rants against their character (or lack thereof), and even the occasional oilien possession. I'm no different -though I don't know of many people who get possessed by oiliens *and* are in love with Fox Mulder. I'm not counting that Covarrubias bitch even though that's more a case of lust than love. Don't ask how I got the gory details about that, but if you want to know, remind me to tell you later.

Anyway, I'm a pathetic loner who loves from afar, bleeds from a near and has no chance of my feelings ever being returned in kind. It doesn't bother me, though. No, really. I've come to the conclusion that a person like me isn't meant to be happy or content or any of the other things that normal, law-abiding folks happen to be. I'll just be happy to live out the rest of my days alone and lonely with only my memories of the time we had sex at work to keep me company. Oh, didn't I mention that as one of the reasons I'm still obsessed with him? My mistake.

We'd been working late, and the bullpen was deserted except for the two of us. I can't remember what case it was, but that doesn't matter. I do remember that we'd been arguing about some of the facts in the case, and it got pretty heated. Having a no-holds-barred discussion with this guy is the best kind of foreplay I can imagine. He gets so passionate, and his eyes do this strange flashing thing that would probably cause seizures in lesser men. Not to make him sound like some Japanese cartoon, but that's the only way I can think of to describe it. Anyway, he was trying to get through to me about whatever it was, and I was starting to get extremely turned on. My adrenaline was pumping, I was feeling attacked, I was about two feet away from the guy I'd been finding it harder and harder to fight my attraction to, and he was looking rumpled and tired and like he needed to be fucked. If you know of a more dangerous combination, please tell me because as far as I'm concerned, that's the most lethal one I know.

So, he was looking hot, I was feeling horny, and there was no one around. Something tells me the planets were aligned just right as well because he suddenly stopped arguing and stared at me. It made me really uncomfortable because I was sure he was reading my thoughts, and the last thing I wanted to do was have him reject me while I was feeling vulnerable. [Laugh at that, you're dead). I asked him what was wrong, and he answered,

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

"I was listening to you. Isn't that what you want me to do? Just listen and never cross you or contradict you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know that you don't respect me. You expect me to go along with whatever you think I should, and the moment I don't do that, you go ballistic."

"I wouldn't characterize this conversation as me going ballistic, Alex."

"Then what would you call it? You've done everything but call me a brainless, mindless idiot who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Believe it or not, it's not good to know that my partner doesn't think I know what I'm doing."

"I never said you didn't know what you're doing. I just think that in this case you're a little misguided."

"Okay. So you're going to impress me with your superior knowledge and set me straight?"

"That's what I was attempting to do, but you wouldn't shut up long enough to hear me out." [This is where he flashed me the sexiest smile I've ever seen on anyone to date]

I admit, that made me want to smile, but I couldn't give him the satisfaction, no matter how much I wanted him at that particular moment. At that point in my life I actually had some pride left. I didn't say anything to him, just started to gather my things and got ready to go home. That's when he said,

"I respect you, Alex."

I still haven't heard words that made me as happy as those did. I was struck speechless for a few moments. When I did regain my wits, I told him,

"You have a strange way of showing it, Agent Mulder."

"You can call me Fox, you know."

"I thought you hated to be called Fox."

"I do. I just thought that I could make it up to you somehow. It's stupid. Forget it."

"What the hell does your name have to do with making it up to me...wait, make *what* up to me?"

"The obviously shitty way I've treated you. I had no idea you were feeling this way, and I want to apologize for my lack of professionalism. I don't know what I can do to make amends."

At this point, I began to feel as if I was the star in some porn movie and was waiting for the music to start to signal that I was about to get laid. It didn't, and I decided to make my own kind of music. [You can boo that later, btw.]

"I'll give you one guess what you can do, Fox." [I admit that he did wince a little when I said his name. Score one for me.]

"Name it. You want football, hockey, basketball tickets? Tell me."

"I think this may be a little better than that, actually."

"Oh? Does it involve certain favors from a member of the opposite sex? I may be able to work that out."

"No. It involves certain favors from a member of the same sex, namely you." [Yes, I know that could be straight out of a skin flick, but I was attempting to be seductive. Fox didn't notice that I sounded like a complete idiot, bless him.]

"Excuse me?" [I know I saw him blush, but he denied it later.]

At this point I figured I had nothing to lose, which may explain what I did next. I knew that it was only a matter of weeks before I'd be out of there, so I decided to go for it. If my partnership ended sooner than my employers intended, so be it. I stepped closer to him and felt this amazing heat radiating from him. I didn't know if it was the fight we'd just been having or the fact that I was exciting him somehow, but I wanted to have that warmth covering every inch of my body.

I took his hand and put it on my crotch. I was already kind of hard, but the minute I felt his touch, I thought I'd come in my pants. Luckily for me, that didn't happen, but it sure would have jibed with the kind of day I had been having up to that point. So, I was standing there holding Mulder's hand on my aching hard-on, hoping he wouldn't freak out yet curious as to what he was going to do about it. I lowered my voice and said,

"Make it up to me."

::silence::

I've always been good at staring contests, so I made sure not to break his gaze. There's no way I'd be the first one to look away. If it had been anyone else, I would have started to feel uncomfortable at the intense way he was looking at me, but all those eyes seemed to do was root me to the spot and make me forget about everything I was supposed to do or say or think...you get the idea. Imagine those eyes looking at you as if you were a piece of meat and he was a carnivore. I've got goosebumps thinking about it.

He smiled and I was immediately relieved. I figured he wouldn't do anything too bad to me if he smiled first. I moved my hand from his, and he maintained the contact with my now throbbing erection - for a second I was concerned that my heart had dropped below my waist. He started moving his hand, rubbing it over the straining material of my trousers, and I lowered my eyes. I wanted to grab him and kiss him so badly, but I wasn't sure what he wanted to do other than torment me with his touch.

"Don't do that."

When he said that, I wasn't sure what he was talking about. At first, I thought maybe he was telling me to stop getting hard and was about to tell him he had to be kidding when he raised his other hand and ran his thumb over my bottom lip.

"Look at me. I love your eyes, Alex."

I looked at him again and saw that the smile was still there. Before I knew it, he was leaning toward me and kissing me. God, it was so incredibly sensual and tender but still commanding. He knew exactly what he wanted and had no trouble taking it. I stood there, not knowing how to react to him, when my common sense kicked in, and I put my arms around him. I could taste the salt on his tongue from his latest seed binge and started returning the kiss with the same force, no, ferocity, he was showing me.

Sometime during our lip lock, he'd unzipped my pants and had slipped his hand inside my briefs. This man could use his touch as a form of execution in any state where they still use the electric chair...I seriously thought my dick was going to catch fire. If I ever get a death sentence, please let me die with Fox Mulder's hand around my cock. Anyway, to say I was happy would be an understatement. I think I might have asked him what he was doing because he laughed and said,

"I knew you were green, but don't tell me you've never done this before."

"I just never expected you to..."

Then he shut me up by giving me the deepest, wettest, probably noisiest kiss I've ever experienced. One of those 'I hear a lot of groaning, oops, it's me, I think' kinds of kisses. I can still taste him, and if I close my eyes, I swear I can feel his tongue sliding over every inch of my mouth as if he were trying to memorize it. I remember laughing because I had an image flash through my mind of his tongue sweeping my mouth for bugs and wanting to tell him that my fillings weren't listening devices.

"Why are you laughing?" [okay, imagine hooded eyes, red, shiny lips and him starting to jerk me off. Or, imagine him jerking you off - whatever works.]

I'm not sure how to spell the sound I made, but it went something like

"Nahhhhgurrrfhruurr"

which got another laugh from him. Did I mention that his laugh could be a cure for every known cause of depression? Trust me on this.

"You like that, Alex?"

By this point, I knew that trying to speak was going to be an uphill battle, so I nodded my head and closed my eyes. I could feel it as precome started leaking from the slit of my cock - kinda like peeing in a warm bathtub, to be honest...hope that's not too...I was going to say graphic, but if you're reading about a guy getting a handjob from another guy, it's not really a problem, is it? What was I saying? Oh yeah, so he traced the tip of my penis with his thumb, and I could feel the precome smearing all over the head, and I wanted to tell him that not only did I like it, I loved it and wanted a life that consisted of nothing more than him touching me like that until one of us died from malnutrition.

I didn't open my eyes until I felt him let go of me. I wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing, when I saw that he was kneeling down. Something told me he wasn't about to start praying...so I did. I looked at this one ceiling tile, and it became my new god. It heard all my wishes, dreams, hopes, confessions and the occasional 'hallelujah' because that's when he put his lips around my cock and started giving me the only blow job that has ever been worthy of a Nobel Peace Prize. Think about it - if every man was too busy getting their dicks sucked, no one would have the time to fight, right? Well, it works for me, anyway.

My knees went weak - imagine that - and if there hadn't been a desk behind me, I could have fallen on him hard enough to kill him or at least really hurt the both of us. I don't think worker's comp would have covered that kind of injury, so I was grateful for the support. When he went down on me completely, I breathed in so hard and fast, my lungs should have exploded. Luckily for me, I just got lightheaded because I forgot to exhale...but I did eventually when he made me come. It's hard to scream without expelling air from your lungs, you know. Not to use a tired cliche, but I saw stars. That could have been from the previous lack of oxygen, but I choose to believe it was Fox's mouth sucking on my dick like it was the world's biggest sunflower seed. That tongue was everywhere, the lips were tight enough to matter but not enough to remind me of a Hoover (vacuum or J. Edgar, take your pick, though I'm not educated on how the J-man gave head), and he'd worked his hand between my legs, cupping my balls as if he was deciding if he should throw the curve or knuckle pitch.

He didn't care that I sounded like the soprano section of my high school choir when I came. When I felt myself totally lose control of my favorite body parts, I shot my come down his throat and expected to see his head whip backwards from the force. He kept sucking and making these really sexy noises, though, and I put my hand on his hair as he continued to devour me. A split second later, he lifted his eyes to look into mine, and I knew I was a goner. No one could have resisted that gaze, but considering the crush I'd been nursing for some time, I was really done for. Too soon, he stood up and kissed me. I must admit I tasted better mixed with him than those damn seeds, but I've never been accused of being modest.

"Did that work?"

I frowned because I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say. 'Hell, yeah' seemed a bit too simple. He clarified.

"Did that help make it up to you?"

This time I laughed at him and nodded my head. I pulled him to me and buried my face in his neck, smelling traces of sweat and his cologne. I remember feeling the material of his trousers rubbing against my cock, and I wondered why he wasn't hard. Then he moved to the side a little, and I felt something hard say hello, nice to meet ya. I started to undo his fly when he put a hand on my arm and shook his head.

"You don't have to do that."

"I know. I want you to fuck me. Please..." [I don't beg anyone for anything, but I figured I may as well go for the Grand Slam.]

"Are you sure?" [Hey, the man can't be brilliant all the time.]

"Positive."

He must have believed me because he drew me in for another kiss and let my busy hands finish their work. The first time I held his cock in my hands, I vowed never to wash them again, then I realized that wasn't practical, especially if I ever wanted to pursue my other career path and become a surgeon. Hey, that's pretty ironic that I'm in the business of taking lives and at one point I wanted to save them, huh? I never thought about that before. Weird.

Anyway, we continued to kiss, and I started jerking him off. That's when he turned me around quickly and pushed me down over the desk. It happened so fast, it made my head spin - don't ask me which one, please - and nothing would have been able to wipe the smile off my face. I started to ask him if he had any lube, when I felt something cold and smooth being rubbed between the cheeks of my ass (why are they called cheeks? When I see people smile, it never reminds me of their backsides, but I digress). At that point in my career, before I'd graduated from being a mere slut to complete whoredom, I hadn't been with too many guys, so when he started to slide a finger inside me, I panicked a little and pulled away from him. He was very sweet, though, and rubbed a reassuring hand on the small of my back and told me to relax.

"I'm sorry, Fox."

"Shh. Don't worry about it."

He tried again and this time got a little further, but I was biting my lip. I mean, I wanted this - *really* wanted this - and I knew that once he started fucking me it would be incredible. Unfortunately, it was just kinda painful at that point, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to go through with it. Shit, if I couldn't take a finger up my ass, how the hell was he supposed to get Mr. Happy up there? Hmm, I'm not sure if that's too much information, but I don't care. I will spare you the details of the careful, loving way he did finally manage to prepare me (let me just say that the man has a gift) and turn to what it felt like when he started fucking me. When he put the head of his dick against my

SHIT!!!! Someone's at my door, and they're going to wake up the entire building if I don't answer it. Trust me, I don't want any attention drawn to myself or where I live. BRB.

Fuck! It's him and he looks pissed. How the hell did he find me? I don't care, I'll let him in and hope that he doesn't shoot me right away. I'll finish this later...unless he should happen to kill me. It's a chance I'm willing to take, and if he does, just remember that I told you I love him. Three simple, straightforward words, right?

END

 

* * *

 

August 1999  
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the exclusive property of 20th Century Fox, 1013 Productions and Chris "hang ten" Carter. They are being used without express written permission and I'll probably end up in the copyright infringement section of hell for using them. That's okay. I'll be surrounded by all of you guys.  
Rating/Pairing: NC-17 for m/m naughtiness; M/K  
Spoilers: Terma, TRatB Oh, and pretend season 6 hasn't happened yet.  
Summary: Alex talks about Fox's visit.  
Series: Just Talking  
Notes: This is the sequel to JT, and you have to read that to understand everything he's talking about. You can find that on my page-http://www.squidge.org/terma/frankie/frankie.htm This is also a reply to the QI challenge. Thanks to Lucy, Sue and Orithain for the beta, and to the lovely QI ladies for their encouragement. As with the first story, this contains bad jokes and puns. WARNING: If you do not have a sense of humor, leave now. That is all.  
Archive: Sure.  
Feedback: ::dons armor:: Yes, please. 

* * *

Just Talking 2: The Mouth That Ate Cincinnati  
by Frankie  
==========

Life is a funny thing. Have you ever noticed how much it can completely suck one minute, then the next, everything's coming up roses? [I *am* Ethel Merman.] I suppose that's what makes it what it is, but I'm not used to life doing anything but slapping me in the face. I am a man who has done nothing worthy in the 30-something years I've been alive. I take that back. I have been a good employee to the men who have seen fit to pay me to wreak havoc on whatever soul they choose. I've even done a bit to help the human race in  
a cause they had no idea they should be fighting. However, on the big 1 to 10 scale of life (1 being the lowest, 10 being the highest), I'm a big fat zero. That's why I can't understand what happened to me tonight.

Remember how I'd been in the middle of relating my true feelings for a certain dashing Fibbie, when there was a knock on my door? It was right in the middle of a good part, but I answered it anyway...you know, you were there. Anyway, it was the man in question, and you won't believe what happened after he stepped into my humble abode and closed the door behind him. No, there was no bloodshed, and not once did his fist connect with any part of my body in a less than friendly manner. He just sort of gave me this curiously frustrated look, raked his hand through his hair and, without so much as a hello, blurted out,

"Why did you call me?"

I didn't know what the hell to do. Should I lie? Tell him the truth?  
I thought about it, gathered the bits of information I knew about myself and, forthrightly, said,

"What are you talking about? I didn't call you."

Have you ever seen Fox look at someone when he knows they're full of shit? It's really great, and kind of funny, when you're not on the receiving end. If you do happen to be the object of that scrutiny, let me tell you, it'  
s no picnic. His eyes were burning holes into me...did I just say that? Shit,  
I promise, the next time I use a cliche, I'll put myself out of everyone's misery. So, there I was with these smoking holes...

"I know it was you, Krycek."

"How?"

"I star sixty-nined you." [Be still my beating heart.]

"Excuse me?"

"Star 6-9. I got your number, then used it to get your address."

Here I thought I was being so clever to block caller ID, totally forgetting about that *other* little extra. Amazing too, considering it's my favorite number. I know you saw that coming.

"How'd you do that?"

"I work for the FBI. It's not that hard to get an address if you use the proper channels."

"Oh. Right." [Note to self: Kick own ass later.]

"So, why'd you call?"

"Why didn't you call me back?"

"Honestly, I thought it would be more fun to do it this way. I guess you could say, I pulled a Krycek." [Well, I know he did that time at work...]

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"Depends on whether or not you think it is." [Dazzling, Crest-white smile.]

Let me stop here for a moment. I admit that at this point I was thinking  
a number of things:

Thought #1:

The Mulder I know is dead and, in the grand tradition of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," has been replaced by this creature. Either that, or he 's possessed a la "The Exorcist." Gorgeous and stunning as he is, I think getting spewed on during sex could spoil the mood. Call it a hunch.

Alex Thought #2:

This is all part of some elaborate scheme to get into my pants, thus lulling me into a false sense of security before taking me into custody. Elaborate is good...Mulder in my pants while I'm still wearing them, is better. Except for the custody part, I like this thought.

Alex Thought #3:

He's choosing to ignore all the shit that's gone down since I resigned from our partnership. I don't want to know why. I'm thinking temporary insanity has finally moved in permanently. It's a good fit considering he's always been on the verge of being a complete loony toon.

Alex Thought #4:

He likes me. He really likes me.

"I just want to know why you called and didn't say anything."

"What would you have done if I'd said hello?"

"Danced a fucking jig. What the hell do you think I would have done?"

I paused as I tried to imagine him doing a little dance...as he shot up the phone. If anyone could figure out how to get a bullet to pass through the phone line, it would be him. I declined to share this little thought with him, though. Instead, I told him,

"Probably tell me to get a fucking life, then hang up. That's what you did, so what's the problem?"

The smile on his face took me by surprise. I mean, it's the last thing  
I expected him to do...so, why was he doing it?

"You know you just admitted it was you."

"You had it all figured out. So what?"

[Uncomfortable pause. He was being contemplative.] "Why did you do it?"

"Just to bug you." [Calling all cars. Be on the lookout for a trained assassin. Has been known to call people and ask if their refrigerators are running.]

"No, I meant, why did you leave?"

I know Mulder is not a stupid man. In fact, anyone who knows me and the way I feel about him knows that I would *never* think that about him. His mind is probably a bigger turn on for me than the rest of him. [Mr. October: "I like walks along the beach at sunset, semi-automatic weapons, the color plaid, and a man with brains."] However, I wondered what kind of meds he was taking to make him ask me that. I mean, only a frontal lobotomy could result in him asking me that question, right?

"I didn't feel like going to prison, Mulder. I've heard the food is awful."

"I would have protected you." [BONK. That was my jaw hitting the floor, in case you were wondering.]

"Gee, now you tell me. And here I thought you hated my guts."

"Why would you think that?"

"Let's see...why would I think that? Hmm, it has nothing to do with the fact that every time you see me, you kick my ass, call me any number of colorful names, or both. Oh yeah, and we didn't exactly part on a good note. Just ask your partner."

I've only seen him look confused once, and that was when he was trying to figure out how to hack into some secret database so he could get free access to porn sites. Now, he looked confused again, and I knew it wasn't because he was interested in gaining access to my hard drive. [Come on. It wasn'  
t that bad, was it? Fine, I'll stop.]

"What does Scully have to do with this?"

This time I looked confused. I've been told it's disarming and charming, but I think I must look like a Neanderthal - Alex no understand. Explain. Use not big words. Ugh.

"I don't know. What *does* she have to do with it?"

"Alex, listen to me." [Yes, he called me by my first name, and I almost jumped into his arms and told him to take me, take me now, big boy. I' ve always been the picture of restraint.] "I'm not talking about the first time you left. I'm talking about when you came to my apartment to tell me about the Colonists' plan."

Oh...that.

"What about it?"

"Why did you just leave like that?"

"What, you expected me to stay and play a game of backgammon, maybe?"

"I expected you to stay and follow through on that kiss."

It was at that point I realized that every man has a teenage girl inside him, screaming to get out. But, being the professional that I am, I simply cocked my head to the side (quite jauntily, I might add) and...stuttered.

"Wh-wh-what...I-I mean"

"Yes?"

Damn him and those eyes, that mouth, that jaw, that neck, that...ah hell, finish the inventory yourself.

"I had nothing else to say. I figured all I could do was leave you with the information and get out of there while you were still in shock."

"You weren't trying to start something?"

"What do you mean?"

[Here's where he did that squinty-eyed, pouty, chewing on his bottom lip thing he'd always do when we were partners. Number 407 on my "Things About Fox That Drive Me Crazy" list.]

"Can I sit down?"

I pointed at the couch and told him to make himself comfortable.

"Alex, I need to explain some things to you."

"Go ahead."

"It'd be easier if you'd sit down, too."

Deciding that his lap would not be a good place for me to rest my ass at that moment, I took a seat in the old armchair next to the couch.

"Explain."

"I never forgot what happened between us that night at work. Have you?"

Do you have any idea how hard it is not to yell "Fuck, no!" when you're supposed to seem disinterested?

"It's crossed my mind on occasion." [Best acting of my life. Are you paying attention, Oscar voters?]

"I could never forgive myself for that. It's probably one of the lowest points of my life."

Why didn't he just reach into my chest and pull out my tiny, black, Grinch-like heart?

"Stop trying to sweet talk me, Mulder. Get to the point."

"What I mean is, I couldn't believe I'd fallen for you, fallen for the shit you probably pull with everyone in order to get what you want."

"I'm not following." [I'm smarter than the average bear, but the average bear isn't all that perceptive.]

"I let myself become emotionally involved with someone who ended up betraying me."

"We weren't emotionally involved, Mulder. We fucked." [Boy, did we.]

"I thought that's all it was too, but my feelings for you were...they were deeper than I realized. It wasn't until you left that I knew I meant nothing to you. That's why all I could do was lash out at you whenever we'd meet."

"I know. I was there."

"Right."

"So, what changed?"

"That night in my apartment. I thought that you were just there to yank my chain, but I found out you were telling me the truth. I couldn't figure out why the hell you'd want to help me. I honestly never expected that from you. And when I looked back on how you kissed me, I thought maybe you *did* have feelings for me."

At this point, I was tempted to search my potted palm for a hidden camera. How did I know that footage of me being jerked around wasn't going to show up on "America's Funniest Losers"? And I'd have to make a point of checking out the local cable access channel for any video of me dancing around naked, singing "It's Raining Men", using a vibrator for a mic. [Hey, I don't judge you for what you do in *your* free time.]

"Mulder, I told you the only reason I was giving you that information was because I didn't want the human race to cease existing. Where the hell would I find good bagels if the bakery down the street wasn't around anymore?"

"What about the kiss?"

"Why do you care so much?"

"Did it mean anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"It was so...you lingered."

"What?"

"You lingered. Your mouth...it was so close to mine and you just...I don'  
t know. You *stayed* there for a while. When you pulled away, I thought you were going to kiss me again."

I remembered that night. Every detail had been engraved on my sin-addled brain. I even dreamt about it, on occasion. I always wondered about the expression on his face after I'd kissed him. Assuming it was just his normal homicidal tendency where I'm concerned, I usually decided to ignore it...until the next time I thought about it.

"I wondered why you looked like that, you know."

"I wanted you, Alex. I was willing to throw out every bit of our past for  
a quick fuck."

"It would have been slow, Mulder. Slow, and easy, and really, really good."

As cheesy as that sounded, I actually turned myself on a bit when I said it to him. It was probably the look on his face (and the way he licked his lips) that did it, now that I think it over. I mean, I'm egotistical, but I'm not *that* bad...most of the time.

"Are you saying it *did* mean something?"

"Sure it did. It meant I was fucking with your head."

Have you ever done anything really stupid and later regretted it? Of course, you have. Who hasn't? Well, the minute those words left my mouth, I wished I could have taken them back. I didn't mean to make it sound like an outright rejection of what he'd said to me, but that's the way he interpreted it. OODs can be so fussy.

"I should have known better, I guess. It's my own fault for thinking something that stupid."

Man, the look on his face just about made me want to throw myself in front of a speeding bus. I mean, I could almost hear the wind going out of his sails. Here I was, minutes away from getting my deepest desire, and I was blowing it. [Notice my not saying anything snarky about blowing him.] I was letting my macho need to not be the first one to break get in the way of what I was feeling. In fact, it was what I'd been bitching about just minutes before. Nope, instead of throwing my arms (make that 'arm') around him and telling him how I was feeling, I let him think I didn't give a shit. In a way,  
I think I was calling his bluff. I mean, how was I supposed to know that he meant what he was saying and that it wasn't just some trick to make me look like an idiot?

Alex argues with himself: Part One

You *do* realize he just told you that he had feelings for you and thinks you feel the same way about him.

So?

So, it's what you've been wanting for years now.

What's it going to get me?

Besides never-ending happiness, you mean?

No, I mean, besides never-ending bruises and jail time.

Why would you get jail time?

Because I'm a *criminal*. Because this is probably all part of some elaborate plan to-

Yeah, yeah, yeah...you've said that already. You've got quite an ego, you know.

Fuck you.

No sale, buddy. I know you too well to want to do that.

You're right. I'm sorry.

What are you up to?

Nothing. I agree with you. I think he's being sincere.

Uh oh...what's wrong with you? Why are you being so nice to me? What do you want?

Not a thing. I just think I should listen to you. You're always right when it comes to saving my life and other important things. The only time you fucked up was that time in Russia.

You're never going to let up, are you? I lost the arm, too, you know. But you're digressing. The bottom line is you should believe him and be honest with him.

I guess there's always a first time for everyth-

Please don't say that.

Why not?

Because you are an honest person. You just don't always say what people want to hear.

Whatever.

How about getting back to your story? No one cares what you talk to yourself about.

Good point.

"Mulder, you're not stupid."

"What?"

"I said, you're not stupid. You're the complete opposite of stupid."

"What are you saying?"

"I didn't think you'd give my visit a second thought."

"And..."

"And I wasn't just trying to mess with you."

"You weren't."

"You mean more to me than you know."

I never expected him to move so quickly, but he was off that couch faster than you could say 'Man, that was fast.'

"Alex, what are you saying?"

"I don't know. What do you want me to be saying?"

"I want you to say what you're feeling. Please, don't tell me that every thought I've had about you since that night is just me driving myself crazy."

Okay, so maybe I was starting to buy it. I couldn't look into those eyes and dismiss what I saw. Maybe I *wanted* to believe he could care about me as much as I cared about him. I know this probably sounds too good to be true, and seems a bit contrived, but I swear on the life of Kathie Lee Gifford that I'm not lying. He really did say all these things to me, and he really did kneel down in front of me and put his hand on my thigh, waiting for me to answer him. I couldn't think of what to say to him. Did I confess my love at that moment? Or did I wait to see what else he would say to me? Would it be okay for me to throw him down on the floor, fuck him senseless, then say I'd get back to him about the feelings stuff?

I have to tell you, it was more than a little disconcerting to hear him being so honest with me. I didn't know if I liked the fact that this was coming so easily. Where was the angry guy who didn't give a fuck about me? Him I could deal with. This...this almost desperate guy in front of me was making me very nervous. The look in his eyes was daring me to say something, anything, but to please not hurt him. Oh shit.

"Mulder, I-I love you." [So much for waiting.]

You know that feeling when you tell a joke and no one laughs when you get to the punchline because they're still *waiting* for the punchline? I felt  
a little like that at that moment. He just stared at me, his mouth hanging slightly open. I wanted to tap his jaw and see if it would make a clicking sound when it closed. I wanted to wave my hand in front of his face and see if he'd blink. Most of all, I wanted him to say something, or, at the very least, breathe.

"Mulder? Did you hear me?"

He started nodding. I don't mean a nice concise, professional nod. He started nodding...and nodding...and wouldn't stop. I had to put my hand on the top of his head to hold it still.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah...I just never expected... Are you sure?"

Sure? What the hell did he mean, was I sure? It wasn't like we were ordering take out and I'd told him I wanted the kung pao chicken instead of the moo shu pork.

"I'd better be sure, otherwise you'll kick my ass."

"Nah, I'd probably do that anyway."

I laughed at that. [If he tells you I snorted, he's a dirty liar.] He began laughing along with me...a lot. A sweet chuckle, or goofy guffaw, I could understand, but he was letting out some major, hysterical, hearty laughter. I chose to think that it was caused by nerves and that he wasn't laughing at all the times he'd hurt me.

"It wasn't that funny. You left bruises."

"It's not that. I'd never laugh at that." [The part of ChuckleFox will now be played by UltraSeriousMulder. Talk about a complete 180.]

"What, then?"

"Don't you think this whole thing is crazy? Think about it. You and I have every reason to hate each other. Me, because of what you did to me, you, because of what I've done to you. One night, a million years ago, we fucked around. That, in itself, should not have been enough to make me fall head-over-heels for you, and even when it did, my feelings should have been quashed by what happened later. Do you understand what I mean?"

::slack-jawed stare::

"Alex? Talk to me, buddy."

"You were head-over-heels?"

"There you go, focus on the important stuff." [Historic footnote: He smiled and stroked my face. This is important because, for the first time in my life, I was struck speechless.]

"Alex, I loved you."

::deep breath::

"You...oh...'loved'. As in past tense. Well, I can understand that. I mean, a lot has happened since then. I can't expect you to-"

"Shut up and listen." [Aye, aye, cap'n.] "I'm trying to say that when we were partners, much to my surprise, I was in love with you. I thought it was infatuation, you know, me trying to figure you out because you were so driven, cocky, arrogant and ambitious. I wanted to know how your mind worked. Hell, I wanted to know everything about you so I could understand you. It wasn't until the night we were alone at work together that I realized what I'd really wanted all that time."

"And when I left, you got over it. I *do* understand. Really. It's okay."

::frustrated sigh and intense shoulder grip::

"Yes, after you left, I hated you. I wanted you dead. I wanted you to hurt as much as I was hurting. But, when you redeemed yourself-"

"When I what?"

"In my apartment. That's how I saw it, anyway. That night, I knew I couldn't get away from it. God help me, but I was willing to put my feelings for you ahead of anything resembling logic."

"And that's why you're here? You're being illogical?"

"I'm here because I love you, you moron."

I'd like to say that after that romantic declaration, he swept me up in his arms and we retired to the bedchamber. Unfortunately, things never work out like that. You want to know what happened? I mean, there we were, finally admitting our feelings for each other after all this time, ready to take the next step, if his kiss was any indication... Oh yeah, he kissed me after he said he loved me. Excellent, by the way. Just like I remembered from when we were partners. Only this time, he hadn't been eating sunflower seeds so it wasn't as...salty. Anyway, I knew I was going to get lucky...when his goddamn cell phone rang. I want to kill the guy who invented those fucking things. Who knows how many intimate moments have been destroyed by those little pieces of shit? He answered it,

"Mulder."

::frown::

"When? Uh huh. There's no way... Okay. Thanks."

::puppy dog eyes::

"I have to go."

This is when I knew it was a trick. Shit, the timing was just too convenient, you know? I couldn't believe I'd fallen for it.

"I can't believe I fell for it."

"Fell for what?"

"Your little plan to make a fool of me. Good job, Mulder."

"You can't believe that, Alex."

Alex argues with himself: Part Two

Why are you giving him a hard time? The guy has to work.

Doesn't it seem a little funny to you?

Not at all. You know what the Bureau's like.

Yeah, bad suits, shit cases and coffee that tastes like it was made during the Eisenhower administration.

Be fair. I don't think it's a trick.

Yeah, but you also don't think the smoking bastard is all that bad.

Hey, that only happened once. You said you wouldn't bring it up again.

Well, I lied. Just like Mulder did.

You don't give up, do you?

Nope. Why do you think I'm so good at staying alive?

Point taken. But look at him. Is that the face of someone who's dicking you around?

Maybe not.

*Maybe* not? Come on, open your eyes, man.

"Alex? Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"What you're feeling."

"No, you don't. Trust me."

"Do you want to know who was on the phone?"

"I assume it was Scully."

I know...never assume because yadda, yadda, yadda. Long story short, he left because he had to pick up his car. It was in the shop and the mechanic called him to say he couldn't fix the problem. If Fox wanted to have his car for the weekend, he had to get it right then. Why couldn't he just rent one? Good question. He said it would be easier to get it now than wait for Monday when he'd be too busy to get over there. I pouted, he kissed me again and left. I felt really stupid for doubting him, but a guy can't be too careful, right? Actually, I still feel stupid telling you this. The guy'  
s asleep in my bed, so what was I worried about? Hindsight...it's not just for breakfast anymore.

You know that pick-up line about heaven missing an angel? I always thought that was really stupid. Of course, that never stopped me from using it  
a few times, with very good results. I also used that 'I've got the F, the C and the K. All I need is you' line...once...when I was really drunk. It worked, though. She was drunk too. Um, I had a point. Yeah, so I'm sitting here, looking at my sleeping Fox and wondering how the hell heaven let this one get away. His face is so peaceful, and if I didn't occasionally check his breathing, I'd swear he was dead. I know...morbid. I told you before that I don't have a way with words when it comes to love or anything resembling romance.

The sheets are tangled around his legs, and he's lying on his stomach, his perfect ass just daring me to smack it and wake him up. He needs his rest, though. I can see a reddish-purplish mark on his shoulder where I bit him. Good thing I've had my shots. It's okay, I've got an equally colorful mark on my left nipple. Seems that years of shelling sunflower seeds with his teeth have given him the impulse to bite whenever something small and hard is in his mouth. I like it.

I suppose I should turn in, myself. I still can't believe that my life'  
s changed so much in the past-

Alex argues with himself: Part Three

Oh, no you don't.

What?

You're not going to leave, just like that.

Why not?

Details! I want details!

Shut up. You were there.

Look, I always look out for you and get nothing but grief in return. All I'm asking for is a little consideration.

For you?

No, for whoever would care to know what happened between you and yodel boy.

He did *not* yodel!

Okay, yodel, scream, sing...whatever. Spill it.

But it's personal.

More personal than the stuff you've talked about before?

Well, it's private.

Hon, you've had sex in public places for money. When did privacy become an issue for you?

When it started involving the man I love...and who loves me.

That's sweet, but what's the harm?

It's the principle.

Excuse me? The what?

Principle.

That's what I thought you said.

Why?

Nothing.

No, what's wrong?

Forget I said anything. It's your choice. That's fine. Your *principles* won't let you share.

You're a bastard, you know that?

That's why you love me.

True.

So...

Yeah?

Details?

Fine.

Thank you.

Shhh!

Sorry...

I had asked him if he wanted me to drive him to get his car, but he said he could take a cab. I felt bad because I didn't want to let him out of my sight now that I knew his true feelings. Still, I didn't want to push the issue, so I acquiesced and watched him walk out the door.

You have never seen a man find so many stupid little things to do in an apartment. I cleaned up everything in sight, changed the sheets, vacuumed, washed the dish (I don't eat at home that often) and made myself a vodka tonic. All of this in record time and one-handed, thank you very much.

He came back just as I had sat down with my drink, making me spring up from the chair like a psychotic Jack-in-the-box when he opened the door.

"I'm back."

"I see that. Want a drink?"

I now know what it's like to be a matador staring into the eyes of a bull that's about to charge. That's the look he gave me just before he crossed the short distance to hold me and kiss me. Please, don't picture that as  
a scene out of some old black and white movie where the male lead dashes across a room, grabs his leading lady and plants a big old 'I really mean it' kiss on her lips. His steps were very deliberate, almost predatory, and for the first time in a long time, I knew I was wanted by someone I wanted just as much.

Surrender has never been as easy as it was when I completely gave in to him. I kind of went limp in his arms and the only thing holding me up was him. If he'd have let go at that exact moment, unless his lips were strong enough to hold the weight of a grown man, I would have plunked down, unceremoniously, in my chair. But, as it was, he held me tight and gave me the deepest, wettest, hottest, most thorough kiss I'd ever gotten. My lips are still buzzing, and my tongue...let's just say my tongue has never been happier to be so used. Wow.

He pulled away and I had to remind myself to open my eyes. What I saw can carry me to my grave should I die in the next minute or so. The smile on his face was so loving and tender, for a second I thought I'd turned into a puppy or something equally cute. Sure, he said he loved me, but no one could look at me like that and mean it. Right? Wrong.

"You're incredible. This whole thing is incredible."

"Yeah." [It's okay. You don't have to be impressed with my eloquence.]

"Alex, you're blushing."

"No, I'm not. I've been drinking."

"How many have you had?"

"Counting this one?"

"Uh huh."

"One sip."

"I never had you figured for a lightweight." [FYI, Fox doesn't just have  
a girlie scream. His giggle sounds an awful lot like it should be coming out of some adolescent babe's mouth. Don't tell him I said that.]

"You gonna tease me, or are you going to fuck me?"

"I was hoping to do a bit of both." [It's not corny, it's cute. Hush.]

He took the drink out of my hand and swallowed it in one gulp. I expected him to choke or something, since I don't believe in making drinks that contain more mixer than liquor. I didn't even see his eyes tear.

"Do you need another?"

Okay, so *this* is the part that seemed like it came straight from an old movie. He looked me in the eye, smiled wickedly and pulled me against him so roughly, I thought I'd cracked a rib.

"There's only one thing I need, and it doesn't come in a glass."

I almost said something about having to give that a try sometime, but didn 't think the look on his face lent itself to my smartass comments. Instead,  
I settled on being a mildlyintelligentass.

"You want the bottle, then?"

"No, but I want something else long and hard." [I see. He says it and it 's okay. Fickle.]

His reply was punctuated by a really nice little hip grind, swivel thing that just about made me believe there was a god.

I've never made better time than when I ran to the bedroom, dragging him behind me. Now, picture the two of us facing each other and lovingly undressing one another...a button undone, a little kiss on whatever skin is slowly exposed...gentle caresses as we slide the intrusive garments off our anxious bodies... Got it? Okay, now think of the exact opposite because that was what it was like. Anyone walking in on us would have thought the Tasmanian Devil was trapped in my room and trying to decide what to wear. Clothes were flying everywhere, fingers were tripping over each other in  
a mad dash to get as naked as possible in the shortest time imaginable. (I' ve never missed my arm as much as I did at that moment.) I think some things were tossed out the window...I'll have to check later. Anyway, you'd think that neither of us had experienced human contact in years (which may have actually been true for Fox), because we were both driving ourselves crazy trying to be everywhere and touch everything at once. That was while we were still standing up. By the time we made it to the bed, I was well on my way to kissing and licking literally every centimeter of his body. God, if Fox was a buffet, I'd weigh 400 pounds by now.

After a number of long, luscious minutes, we ended up in a very convenient position, namely, with our dicks in each other's mouths. Quid pro quo may be the most romantic words on the earth, because I'd never been as happy to give and receive as I was then. The salty heat in my mouth, the fucking incredible feeling of Fox devouring me...man, just stamp "Paid in full" on my forehead and throw me in a corner somewhere. I don't know if Fox cared that I was so completely fixated on sucking his cock, but I bet you my tongue could draw a relief map of it, should the need ever arise.

I came first. Fox doesn't know how close he came to being a eunuch, but he must not have noticed because he continued to suck my dick dry as if he wanted to see me shrivel up. I actually had to pull away from him so I'  
d have something left to play with later. As soon as I did that, it's like he noticed for the first time that my lips were wrapped around his manhood, pole, rod, joystick, manmeat, swizzle stick...take your pick. [Just don 't call it Fox Junior. He doesn't like that.] I kept partaking of my favorite dish, and he started moving his hips until he was fucking my mouth. The whole time, I kept thinking it was a good thing I studied how to be a sword swallower, because I could have died. Okay, I'm being a bit dramatic and hyperbolic, but when someone says Fox is a handful, they should try giving him head sometime. He's a fucking throatful. Not that I didn't love every thrust and stolen breath. Quite the contrary. By the time he was ready to come, I was laid out, deep throating him the way he deserved...and I think might have been accustomed. I have to remember to ask him about that when he wakes up.

When he came, I thought I was going to drown...in a good way. I couldn'  
t get enough of the stuff, and did what he'd done to me, earlier. I started to feel like a mama cat after a while, and he didn't seem to mind the attention. It's stupid, but I was so happy to just lie there, kissing him every now and then, feeling him stroking my hair, whispering ridiculously saccharine terms of endearment to each other. [None of your business.] It was heaven.

I suppose that's pretty much all that-

Alex argues with himself: Part Four

Hey! That's not all that happened!

Listen. I'm tired and I want to get back into bed with Fox.

Come on...

Stop whining.

Well, at least talk about what happened when you guys discussed, you know...

What?

The thing that almost made you cry.

Oh...that. I don't think so. Too much information.

Please? For me?

Fine, but you'd better leave me alone after this.

You got it.

We were lying there, kissing, fondling and basically getting all riled up again, when Fox told me to get onto my back because...shit, if I have to tell you, get out of here. That's when it hit me that I'd been lying on my left side. The stuff that had happened when we'd first gotten into bed was so fast, I hadn't even thought about my arm. But now...now we were taking things easy, and he was going to get a good look at it for the first time.  
I didn't move.

"Alex, come on, baby...I want you on your back."

"Fox, I can't."

"What? Why not? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I just...I can't, right now."

"Please tell me. Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Then we can wait until you're ready."

Okay, his sweetness and understanding were starting to piss me off. Why didn't he just tell me to get my fucking act together and do what he said? Because he loooooooves me, that's why. I knew this, but I thought he'd *make* me tell him what was wrong rather than waiting to see if I would. He looked so concerned about me, and I knew I was being totally paranoid. It 's not like he didn't know what happened to me. I'm sure while we were doing our tornado impression, he caught a glimpse. The difference was I hadn'  
t been aware of it until now. I stared at him, hoping he'd read my mind or something. Unfortunately, there's a reason Fox joined the FBI and not the Psychic Friends Network. I had to bite the bullet.

"I'm...Fox, I don't want you to see..."

"What is it? Is this about your arm?"

Ack. He'd said it. I couldn't look at him. I just nodded.

"Alex, look at me." [No sale.]

"Alex, please...let me see you." [Weakening...]

"I love you, Alex. Please." [Bingo.]

The minute I looked up at him, I knew he'd never judge me or recoil from me because of what I looked like. He kissed me and I think he was waiting for me to say something to him. I had no idea what he wanted to hear, and asked him,

"What do you want me to say?" [I seemed to be making a habit of it. That was at least the third time I'd done it.]

"You don't have to say anything. I want you to listen.

"I love you, Alex. Now, if I look at your past actions and add them to mine, that doesn't compute. There's no way you and I should be together, but here we are. Do you want to know why I'm here?"

I nodded. I hated feeling like some junior athlete who was getting a pep talk, but then again, none of my coaches had ever declared their love for me. Well, except for that one assistant coach in college who started stalking me, but that's another story. This one is much better.

"I look at you and I don't see your crimes. I don't see your betrayals or shitty 'No one can touch me' attitude. For some reason, the fact that you 're a cold-hearted killer never registers, and I hardly notice the annoying way you always put yourself on the defensive."

"That's not true, and none of this is making me feel better."

"See? That's what I mean. Now, shut up."

It sounds worse than it was. He shut me up by sticking his tongue in my mouth. That's the best diversionary tactic to use with me, apparently.

"The point I'm trying to make is that I don't see a lot of things that are obvious to people who don't care about you the way I do. That includes the parts of you that aren't perfect. Those are the things I don't see and that don't matter to me. If they did, I wouldn't be here right now.

"Before you say anything, I want you to realize that I know you're more than what you do...what you've done. When we were partners, I know you showed some of your true self to me. Your brilliance, your naivete about some things, your concern about doing what's right...I know those weren't all false, Alex. Even after you left, you were driven by something that eventually made you want to do the right thing. You just happened to take  
a hell of a detour to get there.

"Deep down, you're a different person, a good person, and I know you're fighting against what you've become, every day. That night in my apartment, I saw that fight in your eyes. I saw the person you want to be, Alex. That's the man I love. I love what no one else can see. Maybe I'm making the biggest mistake of my life. Maybe you are, who knows? None of it matters to me because I love you. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

I understood. I completely understood. For the first time in my life, someone was telling me they loved me in spite of who I was or what I'd lost. I'd defined myself by my actions and my life choices for so long, that I 'd forgotten maybe there was a human being under all this darkness.

"Fox, if you ever wake up and realize you've made a mistake, I want you to leave, okay? I don't want you to do something you can't live with."

Man, talk about dirty looks. I guess it wasn't so much dirty as really, really disappointed and a bit disgusted. I just wanted to make sure he had an out, that's all. You know, this aircraft has six emergency exits, that kind of thing. So, I expected him to launch into some lecture about how stupid I am, but instead he kissed me again. It was so soft, and for a second I wondered if I'd dreamt it. Whenever I'd dream of him, that's how he always kissed me and now it was really happening. Of course, in my dream, the next thing that happened was Annette Funicello would come into my bedroom, ask if I had any jelly, then leave singing the Mickey Mouse Club song. Her absence was how I knew this was really happening. Well, that and the fact that he started biting my nipple, causing some interesting noises to come out of my mouth, as well as the aforementioned injury. [Please, don 't give me any shit about my "feelings" or not being "romantic" enough. Some things are meant to be shared only with the object of my desire. That wasn't defensive, was it? So what if it was? Anyway.]

Okay, to make a long story...to wrap up this rambling mess into a nice, neat package, suffice it to say he and I made love. And before that annoying little voice asks for salacious details, let me pose a few questions:

How do you tell someone about the most perfect, awe inspiring event of your life, without making it seem like less than it is?

How do you relate the feeling that you've finally found your soulmate, and the reason you know this is because when you make love, you don't have to say a word to each other in order to say everything your heart is bursting to say?

How do you make a person see that no matter what's happened in someone's life, the strength of one simple touch can erase all the pain, leaving only something beautiful and magical behind?

How do you keep thinking of questions to illustrate how incredibly in love you are and how much that love means?

Answer: You don't.

I shall now take my newfound depth, and head to bed. But before I do, I want to say that I now know a few things:

1) I love him even more than I thought I did.  
2) He loves me more than I deserve.  
3) He also loves me enough to let me...heh, okay, that's too personal.  
4) I really don't like sleeping alone.  
5) He snores. But it's that cute purring kind of snore that lets me know he's still by my side and hasn't left me.

So maybe that list wasn't as profound as it could have been, and maybe you have no idea why we've ended up together. Join the club. I just know that for the first time in my life, I've gotten what I wanted more than anything, and I have to do my best to keep it and nurture it. Kind of makes my relationship with Fox sound like a new puppy, but there you go.

Speaking of going, I really have to get back to Fox. He's lying there, looking completely irresistible and I need to be next to him. We belong to each other now and have a lot of catching up to do. I think I'll be generous and let him sleep, though. This way I can watch him and not make him feel as if I'm scrutinizing every little part of him. I *am* scrutinizing every little part of him, but I just don't want *him* to feel that way. I can be patient, when it counts. Besides, we have a long time to make up for what we've missed.

Shouldn't you be thinking about going to bed, yourself? You'd better, or I'll make you tell me what you're doing up this late.

Good night.

END  



End file.
